I'm Blowing It

Posted by Anonymous.

I'm blowing it. My life. I'm blowing my life. At least that is how I feel today. I should be happy, I'm 28 and just bought my first house. I did it by myself. My boyfriend didn't help a bit, even though he makes double the money I do. That is the problem, my boyfriend is a nice guy and a good provider. The issue is he only provides for what he deems important. I, on the other hand, work hard, at a job that I greatly dislike most of the time, to provide for everything else.

I was raised with a slower pace of doing things. To me nothing has be to perfect right now, just so long as I am happy with what I have. I grew up with far less than I have now, but I think I was happier then. I've never cared about the newest this or that, or the most expensive. It's always was been about being comfortable in my life. Well, I'm not comfortable anymore. I am exhausted. He is exhausting. When I get home from a long day of work, he wants me to unpack or clean up or hang things. I want to lay down. When I tell him that I am exhausted he mocks me or makes a half joking comment that I am lazy. From there I tend to shut down. It's not fair. I work very hard, I deserve to be happy. I'm blowing it. I should be enjoying my freedom, not dreading going home to my new house because someone is going to nag me to death.

I know this is a very childish thing to complain about, I get it. There are many people in the world with much bigger problems. l am just exhausted and drained and tired of being tired. I want my chance to live happily ever after. I don't think I will get it.

A Life In Tatters

Posted by Anonymous.

We've been together for over 14 years, we own our own flat, we have two beautiful, wonderful little girls and the world's best cat. We've had our ups and downs, and yes, 2009 will certainly go down as one of the all time crap years - you got almost no work all year and we had two huge, unexpected purchases to make (over 18,000 € in total). Money is tight, so tight it's suffocating us, and you're still looking for work but having a really hard time finding it. I know all that.

But I don't know what to do when you start laying all the blame on me, when you start accusing me of a million vile, untrue things (you've been having headaches and ringing in your ears, and somehow this is a sign that I've been "doing something" to harm you, poison you, drive you mad; you've accused me of taking drugs, of being a tyrant, a hypocrit, a compulsive and pathological liar, of sleeping with our computer maintenance guy, of picking up men from internet dating sites, of sleeping with any number of men (of being a prostitute, in a way, but an unpaid one apparently), of being a compulsive internet gamer, of being insane...). It's all untrue, but you refuse to believe me. You insist that I be frank and honest and sincere, but when I am, you refuse to believe me. You've become Dr Jekyll - kind, considerate, affectionate, just like you used to be way back in the beginning - and Mr Hyde, accusing me of horrible, horrible things, saying (as you did this afternoon, in front of our friends, our children) that "I can't be with her right now, it's physical", saying you have to move out, even though financially that's just not a possibility while you have no income and I only have debts. You are destroying me, slowly, painfully.

Our younger daughter turned 6 last Tuesday and is having her birthday party tomorrow afternoon. I've been trying so goddam hard to hold things together to make her special day, her special party day, happy for her. But it's so hard. You give me hope, you talk sensibly and positively and then, the next day, BANG, you destroy it all again.

Right now, I hate you but I know, deep down, I love you like I always have. I'll never find it easy to forgive and forget all the hateful things you've said and done these last few weeks (the bitch slap in front of our elder daughter "I'm not saying why you deserve it because you know perfectly well" when of course I don't know (I should point out, to be fair, that you have never, ever hurt me before, this really was the first time) will be particularly hard to forgive and forget, as will the accusation that I'm trying to harm you physically), but I'll try. Just like I forgave (though didn't forget, I admit) your infidelities at the start of our relationship.

Ever since we've been together, I've been honest, faithful and supportive. I've worked like a slave to keep our heads above water (you did the lion's share of the household stuff, and I could never have worked as hard as I have without your help, I'm not denying that, or denigrating it, I appreciate it, but assumed it was just your role in the team I thought - wrongly, apparently - we were), I've done nothing but my best for us as a couple, a family.

You are now throwing it all away, on the basis of "facts" that you refuse to admit are false. I'm worried for your mental health, I'm worried about where this will all end. We live a long way away from the small amount of family I have, and almost as far from my two closest friends, so I feel horribly alone and totally unsure of what to do next.

I have to keep it together for tomorrow, I have cakes to make and goodie bags to prepare, I want our little girl to have a fun party, without you ruining everything by accusing me of something untrue in front of everyone. But I'm so scared, so very scared.

You're now talking about alternating custody, and that breaks my heart too. You refuse to go and see a counselor ("what for? You'd tell him your side, I'd tell him mine, it wouldn't get us anywhere"), you refuse to see a psychiatrist ("why? You're the one who needs psychiatric help!"), we just go round in circles.

I'm scared, I'm in pain, I'm alone and I'm more miserable than I've been in years.

I wish I knew what to do.

How Did I Get Here?

Posted by Anonymous.

Growing up, success came fairly easily. Mostly 'A' report cards, co-Captain of the Pom Squad, Scholarship to college. Even college continued mostly along that line -- even the bumps in the road could be overcome with a little extra work.

Ever since then it's been downhill. First job after college I left after 2 years because I bombed. The next jobs were ok, so I thought things were getting back on track. Got married, had a child. Started on anti-anxiety meds for stress. Started to get more depressed and anxious. It started to effect my job. Marriage hit a major rough patch. Upped the meds. More struggles at work. Baby number 2 arrived and my depression ballooned into a hideous monster. Started therapy and what became the long process of more and more medication. That was 6 years ago. My job is in trouble, my marriage is in trouble, and my life is a mess.

My dad was a high functioning alcoholic. My mom is the classic "enabler" - sweeping everything under the rug. I'm the classic "Adult Child of an Alcoholic," constantly "people pleasing." I almost wish I were an alcoholic because then I would have a problem that can be solved --You can stop drinking (or taking drugs, or stealing). It's within your control --at least to a point.
With depression like this, there is no control. One minute things are going along Ok --then for the next 10 days you have no energy, stare into space and have no concentration.

I used to have a phenomenal memory. I could keep all sorts of appointments and scheduling in my head. Now I can barely remember things long enough to write them down. I have a pile of "reminders" to go through --many of which have passed the deadline by the time I get to them.

I used to be happy and bouncy. I used to have tons of self confidence. I feel like a shell of what I was.

People say, just focus on being happy. Just focus on getting things done. They don't realize I can't focus -- my brain is set on a loop of negative feedback.

So, how did I get here? How did I go from over-achieving to "holding onto my job by my fingertips?" And is there any way back up out of this pit?

A Good Mother

Posted by Anonymous.

I thought I was a good mother, I recently found out that the very thing I did to protect my child put her in harms way.

Princess Petunia is the much wanted, long awaited, only child of parents who endured several pregnancy losses, were told they would never have a biological child, went through IVF, and against all odds, were blessed with this tiny, perfect proof that miracles happen on an ordinary day.

When we finally learned we were to be parents we were thrilled, our families were thrilled. We spent our days protecting her. I worked nights and her Dad worked days so we didn't have to put her in daycare until she went to school, then only before and after school. She was safe, she was loved, she was the sun we revolved around.

In the past three years this beautiful, sweet princess became bitter, moody, even mean at times. I chalked it up to teenage angst, only child syndrome, her parents were divorced, after all, she wasn't really a bad kid, just moody. About three months ago she asked to go to a counselor. I got her the first available appointment, what my baby needs, my baby gets.

Yesterday she confided to me something that she had already told her counselor and her dad: when she was six the driver for the daycare bus molested her.

My mind flashed back to the time she came home from daycare with a toy we hadn't bought for her, when I asked her where she had gotten it, she told me the bus driver gave it to her because she was such a good girl on the bus, never cried or screamed.

I marched right into the daycare director's office and demanded to know what was going on, making it clear this was not acceptable. The daycare informed me that "he" was a great guy, a dad himself, coached all the kids sports teams, everyone just loved him, besides, if would make me feel better he was going to be coaching full time and would not be driving the bus anymore, and "you know, Mrs. X, Petunia is a wonderful, well behaved child, I'm sure he was just rewarding her."

I left feeling like I had taken care of this, and besides, the Princess really is a great kid. Little did I know, the damage had already been done. You see, about a month or so earlier the day care had sent a letter home to all the parents explaining that due to the shortage of buses and drivers, sometimes it would be necessary for them to drop the children off up to an hour before school started, with no adult supervision. It was basically a permission slip asking me if they could not do what I was paying them to do. I told the director that they could not drop my six year old off at school to be unsupervised for an hour, if I did that it would be child neglect, I wasn't going to let them do it either. Princess Petunia was to stay on the bus until she could be supervised.

The conversation with my baby, who is now almost 17, started yesterday with: "Mommy, remember when I had to stay on the bus...?"

Now I feel like not only did I fail to protect her but I basically handed her to the pedophile that hurt her. I don't know what to think, what to feel. I think I'm still in denial. How did someone hurt my baby and I was completely unaware? How do I sleep at night knowing that I gave this... I can't call him a man... access to my daughter so her he could hurt her?

And how do I ever begin to make the world a safe place for her again. The saddest part is that she tried to protect me. She told her counselor and her father but she didn't want to tell me because, in her words " Mommy, I knew you would think it was your fault, and there was nothing you could do to stop it."

I used to think I was a good mother, now I think I have no clue what a good mother does to protect her babies.

Hook, Line, And Sinker

Posted by Anonymous.

Preamble: I met someone, fell hard for him, and then found out he had lied about being married. They hadn't been divorced for 5 years - they had actually just celebrated their 10-year anniversary.

Here is the email I sent him after I found out...

Subject: WOW

Dear Russell:

Wow – that’s still the word to use. However, it certainly is meant in a totally different context than it did last week.

Congratulations – you fooled me. I fell for it all – hook, line, and sinker. You are good at what you do. Or maybe I am just the perfect victim. It seems like you have had plenty of practice. You know exactly what to say, exactly what to do. You certainly know how to pick them, I’ll give you that.

The thing that pisses me off the most is that my son was involved. Maybe in the future, you should leave the kids out of the picture.

I don’t necessarily have a problem with you being married. It’s the fact that you lied about it. You lied about a lot. I’ll never know which things you said were true and which weren’t. It doesn’t even matter. I’ll never know where you were coming from or what you were thinking. Or if you were even thinking.

I don’t have an issue with casual encounters, as long as both parties are aware of the situation. Honesty will get you a lot further in life. Unless of course this is exactly what you were after. The game, the lie, the idea to completely fool them, the conquest. Did you go home and laugh? Does it make you feel more like a man to dupe someone? Do you even care about how your actions affect other people? Maybe this is exactly what you are after. If so, time to move on to the next conquest.

I will take some positive things from this experience. Not quite sure what all that will be yet. But one thing’s for sure, I know now to trust my gut over my heart. I still believe in myself and what I have to offer.

Looking back, there were a lot of red flags.

Congrats to you and your (3^rd?) wife on 10 wonderful years of marriage. I’m sure your whole family is proud of you.

A Haunting

Posted by Anonymous.

The past week really has been a hell of sorts.

It hasn't been terrible, but once again I feel - I have no better word - haunted.

It's not anything supernatural or spiritual in the sense of the undead hanging out with me at random times. It's more of a heart-haunt and a mind-haunt. Thoughts and feelings that I thought were gone have suddenly returned and refuse to leave me as it did once before regarding this same situation. It's the very strong remnants of a past relationship - a relationship into which I invested too much, received next to nothing, but cannot seem to shake. I fell in love with someone who misled me into believing that she was actually available - that we could actually have a future. My greatest fears were realized only a few short weeks later when she was able to patch things up with her "ex" (who wasn't really ever her ex, I now understand), and she dropped me without a word.

I have had one conversation with her since then - ONE - 2 months later, and in it she again tried to lead me to believe that months down the line, there could be something for us. My mind knew better. My heart didn't, but at least it didn't become fully invested as it did before.

Now it's been a year since the line between friendship and anything more really began to blur for me, and suddenly she's back in my thoughts, especially my dreams, and in my heart. I'm not "in love" with her again, or anything of that nature. That, while it took months, finally subsided. But I do really and truly miss her. Part of me wonders whether this will get worse in July when it will have been a year from when we actually had a real relationship. What makes more complicated is that we have so many mutual friends that I get accidental updates on her, and her current relationship, often. (If you're curious: She's fine. Their relationship is better than ever. They're moving away together to Xxx, XX this summer for her girlfriend's job.)

My few friends in whom I can really confide about the situation (without fear of further publicizing what ended up being her affair to minimize drama for each of us) are as supportive as they know how to be while being confused as to how I could possible have any amiable feelings toward this individual who treated me so poorly and rendered my heart so completely asunder. I appreciate them, but their support, comments, advice, etc. isn't solving this problem of being haunted by these remnants of my past relationship. I'm at a complete and utter loss as far as how to deal with this.

Best Friends Without Benefits

Posted by Anonymous.

In July, I will be married to my husband for ten years. My husband is a stay-at-home dad while I work full time as a teacher. I used to work 7 days a week because I would wait tables on the weekends as well. We have two children, a 7 year old boy and a 4 year old girl. The girl stays home with her dad all day.

We have a tiring life--doesn't everyone who has two little kids? Teaching takes a lot out of me. I love it, but it does drain me. My husband is dabbling in the movie making business (hopefully moving into that full force once Keira goes to school next year).

About a month ago, my husband told me that he felt like I had emotionally pulled away from him. He felt like I didn't try to connect with him anymore, and that I spent most of my time just trying to sleep. The fact that I would never initiate sex with him made him feel like I didn't want him. (In reality, I was just tired! The kids stayed up later than me most nights, so the sex we did have was at 3:00 in the morning when my husband would wake me up.) He said that he has been depressed, and that he was just realizing the extent of it. He felt like my caretaker rather than my husband.

Sounds like my husband has a case of the housewife blues. I get it. I didn't want to stay home with the kids full time. In a way, I think it would've been better if I would have--I would have gone to play dates and activities and LEFT THE HOUSE during the day. It seems like my husband has lost his sense of self.

Horrible. The next week, I quit my weekend job so that I wouldn't be so exhausted. I started trying to show him that I really do love him and that he is more than just a maid, nanny, and cook (terrible maid, by the way). I tried being more affectionate and emotionally available. (We've always talked all the time, so it wasn't that)

I think I missed my window, though. My husband has lost his attraction for me. He loves me. He is my best friend and I am his. He wants to cuddle and hold hands, but he doesn't feel the warm fuzzies or tingly feelings for me when he sees me. We took a long hard route in finding out this information. He didn't want to admit it to himself or me. It is a horrible feeling.

It feels better than what I had THOUGHT he felt. When he described it to me, I thought he didn't really like me or want to be around me. I thought he had completely fallen out of love with me. I thought he hated me, even though he told me that there was nothing about me that he didn't like. I thought we were through, even though I didn't really do anything bad--the feeling of rejection were mostly in his head. BUT, they were real FEELINGS, so he feels numb toward me.

How are we going to work through this? We are going to continue to be best friends. We can hold each other and cuddle. We won't be having sex, though. We haven't really been having much of that anyway, so in reality nothing much has changed. Is this forever? No way. We are going to do this until he either realizes that I am the hottest woman (for him) around or he realizes that I'm definitely not and we will drift apart. I'm fairly certain it'll be the first one. I'm fairly certain it'll be soon.

It is a weird arrangement, but it'll work. Here's the problem. How do I handle MY self-esteem? How do I handle that my husband has admitted that he thinks I am beautiful and a wonderful person, but he doesn't want to have sex with me? (He is kind of girly in his view of sex--there is no such thing as casual sex. He can't get turned on unless the FEELINGS are there.) How do I not act weird around him? How do I not focus on how the ACTUAL rejection is making me feel?

It is all a mind game. We were only doing it once every month or so anyway. Nothing has changed other than his recognizing his feelings and telling me what they are.

I kind of wonder if everyone goes through this--they don't have the warm fuzzies all the time. It is just really painful for me because my girly husband talks about his feelings and TELLS me about them!

I guess we will both be separately spending some time making ourselves physically feel better for awhile, and then (hopefully) sometime soon we can do it together.

To My Husband

Posted by Anonymous.

To my husband,

There are things I wish I could say to you, that I never have. They get caught in my throat and then just circle in my head. Let me start with I love you, more than you can ever imagine. I can't imagine my life without you. And yet at times like this, I wonder why I am still here.

There are so many things that I can't even begin to talk to you about. You are a bad listener. You are a great reactor. I wish I could duct tape you to a chair to get you to hear me. You are fun to be around, but only think of yourself. You are a good husband, but not the best father. You are ruining our relationship with our daughter. You are driving the wedge in further and further. My son is afraid of you. You lack empathy. I understand your desperation, your fear when it comes to your daughter. I really do. But clearly this isn't working.

I don't know how to fix things anymore. Our family is falling apart around us, and I can't hold it together. And you don't get it. I hate myself for not stepping in when you are mad at her. I hate myself because I know that if it was my son you were yelling at like that, I wouldn't stand for it. And because she is my step-daughter, I don't feel like I have the same authority, and neither do you. I hate that. I hate that this is effecting my son so much. I don't know how to protect him. Sometimes I feel like I should have left to give him a better life. But if I left what would happen to her? I love her like she is my own daughter, and yet she isn't. And within our family that is very clear.

A week ago we agreed to not have anymore children, or even a child together. It hurts, and I know it is the right decision. But this isn't how I imagined my life. How are your values so different from mine when it comes to children?

But I love you. And I read this and it makes you sound like a monster, and you are not. You make us laugh and we're happy most of the time. But today the rug has been pulled out from underneath me. And it is all your fault. You don't get it.

dear friends, this warrior is a child

Posted by Anonymous.

perhaps nothing was said out of anger or negative emotion, but they surely were of sarcasm, even you made that clear... i know how easy it is to hind behind a screen coz i know how easy it is to hide behind my own face in person-to-person conversations... so in emails i say what i feel, if i should be feeling anything... if anything, i'm probably more open to expressing my emotions as words on paper or pixels on a screen than i do person-to-person...

and all the emails exchanged this week were solely meant to inform, (no sadness, no pain, minus that incident i clearly laid out, no anger, no resentment), however way they may have been construed... like i said, i'm tired... i've been trying so hard to calmly and objectively dissect this situation trying really hard to see where it all got disconnected, and even you today just said that you didnt know i explained my poor word choice to her... i didnt say you were taking my side, i said i dont want them to believe you're taking my side, since you're the one presenting the counter-argument... and im too tired to explain this in detail

i'm really tired... and your last email filled w/ sarcasm and turning my metaphor into my saying "how u end up being the holy great one" is the threshold for me... im not taking it too much to heart because i know you were just typing what's on your mind, but that's a not so common-day metaphor surely not to be found in the merriam-webster, and it has a personal, and very low, blow to it so i cant tell you that it didnt hurt b/c it did... time may heal all wounds... but the scars remain for a reason... to remind us of all the battles we've fought, whether or not they were meant to be fought or even necessary... and some scars i carry, physical or otherwise, in retrospect, weren't so necessary, but they are blemishes on my skin that i graciously accept and live with and learn from everyday nonetheless...

i'm tired dear friend.. really tired.. of having my words turned into something else.. or having parts of the story missing as told by her... or everything and anything that comes in between... i'm just really tired.... not just physically.... like i said in the voicemail earlier after reading your last email, i can't be you guys' friend if i can't be myself... because that's the biggest lie of all... and this week, it's been very taxing to be you guys' friend... with all of you believing you've heard it all, and that it still comes off as my saying this and that... i've reached my breaking point...

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

i dont and never did seek to "disclose this mystery".. i merely wanted to ensure my voice was also heard... and what i had to say was no secret...just facts... i dont want to sit here deconstructing every word, thinking of how it could come off, just like it happened today w/ what i thought would be an innocent email that you would understand completely without feeling like i had some "holy great one" complex... especially since you were agreeing w/ me earlier that people shouldn't take certain words to heart, i didnt think i needed to explain to you that word choice that just came out of my "metaphor area" in my brain, if such a center exists...

i refuse to unlearn metaphors i've learned since gradeschool just so i can't be misconstrued... i really don't mind being misconstrued... but when it happens this often, after a set of heart-to-hearts that i deemed as our truly understanding each other, it gets very draining very quickly... being myself shouldn't be a task... being a friend takes work, but i personally believe it should never be this hard...

For it is [mine] to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

so for now, i surrender my badge... i'm not trying to run away... i'm just really drained of energy and need to be refreshed... i dont need you to accept it, respect it, or even understand it... it is just what it is... i am just what i am... and right now.. i'm just being very true to myself and my needs...

I Don't Want Her In My Life!

Posted by Anonymous.

I am 28 years old, a married SAHM to two children ages 4 and almost 1. I am also legally blind. When I go out I use a white cane. I can see a little, but only a little. I have gone through so much crap in my life. I have many blessings too, but the crap is overwhelming at times, and it mostly has to do with my dad's second wife. I will just list some of the things:

* Parents divorce
* Dad's remarriage two months later
* Dad fighting with second wife
* Going blind
* Dad fighting with second wife
* Dad's divorce
* Dad fighting with second wife
* Dad's remarriage to his second wife
* Dad fighting with second wife
* Second wife fighting with my sister
* Sister cuts second wife out of her life.
* Both uncles fighting with dad and second wife.
* Both uncles cut dad and second wife out of their lives.
* My grandparents move in with dad.
* Second wife fighting with my grandparents
* Grandparents moved out and in with my uncle.
* Dad fighting with second wife
* Dad stayed with me for a week
* He moved back home
* Dad stayed with me for a week
* Second wife fighting with me.

These are some of the things that I am concerned about.

I do not want phone contact, because being blind I can not read my phone to see who is calling before I answer. Second wife has said some very disturbing things to me. This is also why I do not want any written contact.

The reason I do not want contact in person from second wife is because I am unsure what she will do and I am afraid of injury to myself or my two children.

Here is a list of things that second wife has done that disturb me greatly enough that I no longer want her around myself or my children.

* She has said things that do not make sense. She told me her mobile phone was broken, but my husband checked my phone and she was calling from her mobile phone.
* She said that I wanted her to die. I have never said anything to give her this impression. That is why this scares me. I have never said anything to give her any thought along this line. So, I am worried that she may want to harm me, because of her thoughts.
* She has said she is good as dead. She implied that she was going to kill herself.
* The majority of the time when my family has gone over to her home she usually is drinking some type of alcohol.
* Being around her she has acted withdrawn, talking very slowly, and like she can not comprehend what I am saying. She also seems like she has a hard time trying to say things, like she no longer knows what the meanings of some words are.
* Almost any time she gives us food to take home from her home the food is expired.
* She told me that she was going to drive. I did not think she had a license. In the state she was on the phone I was worried she would drive to my home. I did not know what she would do, but I do not want her when she is in such a state around me or my children.
* She threatened to sell my wedding dress. I was able to get that from my dad.
* She threatened to sue me for the financial assistance my dad gave me through college, the computer my dad helped me pay for when I was in college, and the video camera I was given at my baby shower.
* She has called me all sorts of things.
* She wanted me to return every thing that my dad or she has given me.
* My dad brought back anything that I had given to them. He said he didn't want it destroyed.
* She sent my husband 70 texts in less than two days saying many terrible and horrible things. My husband didn't respond and we had to change our phone numbers and email addresses.

My dad was going to get divorced but it seems like he isn't now and he is putting a guilt trip on me and wanting me to let her back in my life.

I don't think she cares about if I am in her life or not she just wants my children. I don't want to subject them to her. I don't know if she will be stable or not and I love my kids too much to put them in that situation.

My dad says she just has health problems and needs a lot of love. I just keep thinking, what about me? Don't I deserve a chance to be happy and anxiety free?

Whenever I think about her my chest hurts. I have an anxiety attack and can barely take care of myself. Since I have cut off contact I feel so much better, but my dad just tried to convince me to have Easter with them. I feel bad because I want to forgive, but I just can't emotionally handle her. It makes me wonder why can't I just get over it. I guess because there has always been some issue involving her since I was 15 when my dad married her. I don't think I can do that to myself again.

I have told my dad all these things, but still he continues to try to convince me to let her back in. Why doesn't he care about the way I feel? I have told him countless times but my words don't seem to matter. Every time I get anxiety.

I have had enough.

I'm Not Real

Posted by Anonymous.

I'm not sure how to explain what is happening to me. I don't know who I am. No one else knows me either.

The most recent time I can think of when I was really being myself was probably when I was about 13 years old. Somewhere around the time I entered high school I started fearing judgment by other people so much that I stopped putting myself out there almost completely. I had a few good friends who I was very open with, but when I was around other people I always had my guard up.

Since then I have continued this relationship pattern by letting in only a few people in college and later a few people at work. When I got married and soon after became a stay-at-home mom, my world started closing in on me. We didn't live anywhere near either of our families. I was no longer forced to interact with the same people on a daily basis. I (barely) maintained a couple friendships, but was still so guarded and private that it was difficult to make friends with anyone new. We moved regularly for my husband's job and that made it even harder to make and keep friendships.

In the past few years I have become increasingly aware of how much I keep secret about myself. There is no reason for it, really. I don't feel ashamed about anything in my past. I have worked so hard at it though that I have lost touch with who I really am. I struggle to find my opinions on basic issues and I rarely spend time doing things I really enjoy (besides things I enjoy doing with the kids, which I do genuinely enjoy).

I have three kids and no idea who I am apart from their mom. I have a vague idea of who I could be, but I am afraid to become fully "myself" because I might have to admit I've made some wrong choices along the way and that I need to deal with the consequences. These consequences could also affect my kids and I do not want anything I do to have a bad impact on them.

I am tired of feeling misunderstood. I don't even feel like my husband really knows me all that well. I understand it's my own fault for not being more open, but I don't really know how to begin being more in tune with myself. I feel like a child lost in the woods.

Too Much Motherly Love

Posted by Anonymous.

It all started about 3 years ago. I was in a rocky "relationship" if you will and my mind had started to wander. There was this boy. He was 22 and I was 18. He worked at the same place as my mother. He was her manager, so she knew him fairly well.

One day, my mother and I went in to her work to get her check and I was introduced to him. He was handsome, and funny. My mother stood and talked to him for a few minutes and I occasionally threw in a witty comment with which he would reply with a smile.

From there on out, the flirting got more intense. I started finding excuses to go into his work when I knew he would be there. We asked each other questions about past relationships and what we looked for in other people. Eventually, he wanted to see me, outside of work. I knew it was a sticky situation to be in because of my current boyfriend but I was intrigued so I agreed.

I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend before this other boy and I hung out. We went to a local amusement park and spent the day there. Before I went home, we exchanged our first kiss and he asked to be my boyfriend. I accepted the offer.

My mother was NOT happy. She had every excuse in the good book as to why I shouldn't be dating her manager and this that and the other thing. I secretly though she might have had a thing for him because of the way she acted around him and past remarks she had made about him but I never said anything. Eventually everything blew over and our relationship continued with no problem. She grew accustomed and even encouraged it.

We have been dating for almost 3 years now and he lives with my family and I. I know they text message frequently as well as go to the gym together every day. I have always in the back of my head sort of suspected something, like I said before, but I always pushed it to the back of my mind. He loved me. She was my mother. End of story.

Last night he left his cell phone in my car and my curiosity got the best of me. I know it was wrong, but there was something in my head telling me there was something I needed to see. I started to go through his text messages and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I figured I'd read some of my mother's text messages because they do talk a lot, and what could they POSSIBLY have to say? She's 40, he's 25.

Anyways, long story almost short... I shouldn't have looked. There were suggestive texts from HER to him about outfits and hotels and surprises on the way to the gym. Texts about being dirty with no interruptions. REPLIES from him egging her on. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't read anymore. I drove home, stormed in the house and confronted the two of them. They both insist it's a joke and there was never anything done. They make me feel like I AM CRAZY and shouldn't be upset. My mother tells me I shouldn't throw away my relationship over silly jokes. I know what I read though. I know what I saw. I don't feel it's right for a mother to be talking like that to her daughter's boyfriend. I love him and I saw forever in him. He was good to me, but I feel like this is something I just CAN'T get past. I guess the whole point of this is, does everyone else think I'm wrong too? I should leave him, right? I can't be the only one in the world who feels this way. It hurts and I don't know what to do.

-Anonymous

Bridging The Gap Between Us

Posted by Anonymous.

Everyone asks, "Aren't you afraid?"

I want to tell them that I am. But not for the reasons they think. I'm not afraid of being a young mom, of giving up the "best years of my life." It's not that, or delivery, or how my husband will handle school, work and his new son. I am afraid because I am doing the hardest thing I have ever done in my life: I am letting you back into my heart.

I thought about you every day when I was a little girl. I wondered if we had the same nose or if my hands would ever be the same shape as yours. I heard my mother cry all alone in the bathroom because she had been shamed and now had to struggle alone. It would be years before she told me about the other women, the drinking, the time you'd broken her back. At that time, I thought maybe I had asked for too much simply by asking about you. I thought she must be regretting something awful that caused you to leave her. She never said a single bad word about you. I thought you must have been the most perfect person in the world.

It's funny how even when I found out that you were nothing like the picture my mother painted, I always wanted to protect you. It didn't matter how many times the counselor at school pulled me aside and asked about my busted lip [or my broken ankle, or the bruises on my arms, or my black eye, or the cuts that later appeared on my arms...] I always had a plausible excuse. Because I loved you, and I loved that we had the same nose and the same shaped hands. My mother left me with you hoping that you had changed, thinking it was the best chance for me to grow up in a house and not in a series of apartments with her new boyfriends. I came to you hoping that you could be everything I'd dreamed a father could be. "You were a mistake," you said instead. "Just do something useful; get those dishes. Don't forget to iron my work clothes." Those were things I'd never done before, but I learned how just to make you happy. To cook, to clean, to make the best grades, to hide my tears and physical pains with a cheerful smile.

Eight years later, when they pulled you out in handcuffs, I cried. The officers asked, "Weren't you afraid?" I shook my head because I couldn't speak. Of course I wasn't afraid- you hadn't meant to shoot at me. You'd missed on purpose. You'd just been drinking again, and I didn't want you to go away. "It's okay. Put him to bed and he'll be okay tomorrow!" Oh, I pleaded. Even knowing that tomorrow you might find out that I had been hiding my pregnancy and miscarriage from you. You told me all about that boy and what he wanted, you tried to save me by banning him from our home. And when you were right, you had to make sure that I remembered for a long, long time. "Please. I don't want you to take my daddy away!" I'd take it all back- wishing you would disappear. All the self-doubts and suicide attempts. The resentment. The regret for all of those feelings. being so confused about whether I hated you so much I loved you or loving you so much I hated you. I'd swallow it back up and we could just forget it all.

They didn't listen. They placed me back with my mother, who cried and cried when she saw my arms and face. When she the bullet holes in the wall for herself. When she realized in full the chance that she gave me. I saw you in court and you sat next to me. "Sweetie," you said. "My God, what did I do? What have I done? Can you forgive me? Can we just forget all of this happened?" I wanted to say, "Yes, yes, let's forget and go home. I haven't even done the laundry yet and I know you need your work clothes for tonight." But my mother's lawyer screeched at you from across the room- "get AWAY From her!" My mother couldn't understand why I mourned the loss of you again. I'd lived my whole life wanting to please you and now I'd ruined my chances forever.

Five years later, when I wobbled up to your doorstep before my grandmother's funeral, I held my husband's hand so hard that he had to ask me to let go entirely. "I'm so sorry that I'm afraid" I told him, wondering what you would do. Would you scream at me? Would you throw your fists at me? Would you blame me? Or worse, would you pretend not to see me? It felt like the years of therapy had melted all away. I felt sixteen all over again, watching them shove you into the back of the police car. You answered the door and you hugged me. "I knew you'd come back, Honey. I just knew you'd forgive me." You held my hand, the one that was now not just the same shape, but the same size as yours. You blinked back tears, you talked to me for hours. You gave me Grandmother's fur coats, her handwritten recipes, money to help us get home. You begged me to keep in touch so that you could make amends. I asked my husband what he thought as we were driving home. He simply said, "Your father looks like a sad old man that can't hurt you anymore." I realized then that you'd turned 50 this past year. And indeed, perhaps you couldn't hurt me anymore.

I called you two months ago to tell you that I had made your dreams come true- I was finally able to give you the grandson you'd always wanted. A little boy after so many daughters and granddaughters. I was so scared to pick up the phone and dial those old numbers. Afraid you'd pick up and say, "I was lying all along. I can't change. I'll find you, I'll make you pay for disappointing me!" Instead, you laughed and cried and asked me all about my son. You asked if you could come to be with me when I gave birth. You asked for pictures and constant updates. I hesitantly gave you my phone number then and you even called me the other day. You scolded me so lightly for making you worry about our little family. I felt my heart seize up before you said it was only because you want everything to go perfectly. You got serious. You said, "If I could take it back, I would, you know? I did a lot of things that I'm ashamed of, and I wish I could make it up to you. The best I can say is that I am sorry; I know you don't want excuses. You don't have to trust me- but I'm glad you do. It's the best gift anyone has given me."

I hesitated last night before putting the envelope containing Jackson's ultrasounds into the mailbox. Just for a minute. And then I thought, "Why am I so afraid?" [Forget that voice that kept asking me if I would do the same things to my son, if I'd pass on my anxiety just by him being within me, if I could even do this, if you would come back into my life and hurt me so deeply again.] I pushed the letter in the box and pulled up the flag. I walked inside and I didn't dare look back. If I did, I might have run back out and snatched my son away from you. I see now what my mother was hoping for. I see now what she tried to do. And as I try to do the same thing almost two decades later, I pray for the best just like she must have done.

So, Daddy, we can still have the relationship we were supposed to. Please don't disappoint me this time. Keep your word. Make it up to me by loving my son the way you should have loved me.

Etiquette Rules for Facebook (A Guide for Fathers, Dung Beetles and Glenn Beck)

Posted by CFM.

Today, I became a fan of a dung beetle on Facebook.

Apparently, someone thought it would spark revolution if this tiny creature gathered more virtual pals than conservative blow-hard Glenn Beck. Thus far, Glenn Beck is outpacing the dung beetle by about 450,000 fans. It's discouraging, but it's not keeping me up at night, because Facebook is not real.

I am not really a fan of dung beetles.

Dung beetles do not really care if I like them.

I fanned the dung beetle without putting much thought into the decision. I take it for granted that everyone involved realizes my relationship with the dung beetle is fleeting, a momentary announcement to my friends via my profile page, and nothing more.

When it comes to Facebook etiquette, though, there are different expectations for interactions with dung beetles than there are for, say, fathers.

My father friended me on Facebook.

Then he unfriended me.

Then he friended me again.

This is the most I have heard from him in more than 10 years. Our relationship before that wasn’t great, either, after many rocky years during which my parents divorced and remarried various people with whom I did not get along. As I entered adulthood, I made a few efforts to reconnect with my father. I was rebuffed, I gave up and I tried not to think too much about him until he showed up on Facebook.

I really don't give too much thought to out-of-the-blue Facebook friendship advances when they come from casual high school acquaintances I have not seen since I successfully grew out my bangs and learned to walk around without my gaze glued to my shoes. (I don't think those two events are necessarily related, but they did occur at about the same time.)

When a person I barely knew back in those bad, old days of high school casually friends me, I assume that person, like the dung beetle, understands our Facebook connection does not actually make us friends.

I politely accept those requests, flip through my yearbook to place names with the (17-year-old, outdated images of) faces, then forget about these faux friendships until a status update about weather or dinner menus reminds me of these tenuous connections.

All of this is absolutely fine for Facebook friendships with former adolescent acquaintances.

Blood relatives, though, should follow a different set of etiquette rules on Facebook, I think.

A personal message should be required to accompany the family "friend" request.

In the case of my father, something like, "I remember when you were born! What's up?" might be appropriate.

After I accepted my erstwhile parent's foray into Facebook friendship, I wondered about his motives, but also about what he would gather about me from my page.

I'm not a 16-year-old angry girl anymore. But maybe that's not clear from status updates like this one: "Put this on your status if you know someone who deserves a smack in the face with a shovel."

Does a relative who chose not to RSVP to my wedding want to know that my gangsta name is Rebizzle, that I have never gambled in Las Vegas or that I am a member of a group called, "Can this dung beetle get more fans than Glenn Beck?"

Probably not.

But I hope he hangs out in my Facebook photo albums. I hope he sees his three-year-old granddaughter dressed up like a fairy princess for Purim last year, and my younger daughter’s first birthday when she cried even as she shoved cake into her mouth and the two of them bundled up in their warmest clothes to revel in a rare deep South snowstorm. I hope he sees all that and realizes that my little girls are pretty awesome in pictures, but they are way, way better in real life.

Damaged Beyond Repair

Posted by Anonymous.

I found out about a week ago that my husband has been fooling around with a sales rep that he is doing business with. My world has been in a tailspin ever since. I feel such tremendous hurt, embarrassment, shame, and pain that I can barely breathe. We have been together for almost 20 years, and married for 10. We have 4 beautiful kids. We are in the process of buying our dream house. And then this.

I feel like I've experienced a death... the pain is so intense. As far as I can tell - and as he's told me - I discovered it before it got to the physical level, but somehow that doesn't bring me much comfort. I can believe it happened. I can't believe this is my life now. I don't know what to do. I am constantly reliving every moment every day. Every hour. Every minute. I feel like I am never going to be okay. Like I am never going to be able to recover from this pain. I can't eat or sleep. I've lost 10 lbs. in just this week alone. I feel like I've been robbed of my future, and wonder if my past has been all lies. My heart aches for my kids, for they don't deserve this, and have no idea that something is so terribly wrong. I don't know what the right thing to do is, and I am just frozen in the pain and sorrow.

Are people able to recover from such things? Can you ever really learn to trust again? I don't know how I am ever going to go on from this... I wish it never happened.

Day One

Posted by Anonymous.

Before I can tell you about today, I need to tell you about last Tuesday. Last Tuesday was my first day of sobriety. But before I can tell you about Tuesday, I need to tell you about what happened before Tuesday.

Looking back, it's obvious that I've been an alcoholic, or an alcoholic in training, for a long, long time. My parents tell stories about me as a toddler or preschooler, stealing sips of beer. I remember drinking a glass of champagne or wine with dinner as a young child (maybe age six or seven) and liking it so much that I wanted a refill. I know that at age seven I preferred my mother's tropical cocktail (Planter's Punch) to my own Shirley Temple. I remember at around age 13, our family had a leftover keg in our garage from a block party, and I drank one or two glasses a day from it until it disappeared.

The first "official" time I got drunk I was 14. Fuzzy Navels and tequila shots. My friend, who had driven us to the party, wound up putting a very dizzy, barely conscious me into bed, obviously disappointed by what a crummy sleepover guest I'd turned out to be.

College? Plenty of binge drinking, followed by throwing up and blacking out. Bad behavior.

After college, more of the same.

I took a break for a few years, when I was pregnant and had small kids.

But once the kids got old enough to go away for sleepovers, more binge drinking. No more throwing up, but plenty of overindulgence followed by passing out and nasty morning-after hangovers.

Fast forward a few years. My husband's diagnosis of metabolic disorder gave us a great excuse to drink daily: red wine is a key part of the Mediterranean diet! My frequently-used jest was, "My doctor told me a glass of red wine a day is good for me. I say two glasses are twice as good!" In reality, however, two glasses? That was by six o'clock. We quickly got to a level of drinking that meant we recycled three or four boxes of wine per week. I was keeping up with his every drink, sometimes surpassing him, and he outweighs me by about 150 pounds.

I stopped going to sleep. Instead, I blacked out. Many mornings, I'd wake up naked, but not sure if we'd had sex. I had to ask my husband what we had done.

But certainly, I'd told myself, I wasn't an alcoholic. I didn't miss work because of drinking. I didn't start drinking until at least 5:00 p.m. (of course, sometimes I'd sit staring at the clock, with a glass ready, for ten or more minutes). I never got a DUI. I never went to jail. I never hit my kids.

But I started to get sloppy. Over the holidays, I drank too much and was obviously drunk at my in-laws' house. I embarrassed my husband. And the week after New Year's, my husband and I had a sincere conversation in which we determined that we drank entirely too much, and that we needed to cut down.

What happened? He cut down, even skipped nights, drinking one or two drinks at the most. I, however, started putting my wine in coffee cups, or, more disturbingly, waiting until everyone else had gone to bed before starting to drink, and getting drunk.

And that brings us to Monday night. The husband went to bed around 10:30 p.m. As soon as he was in bed, I went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, as though I were filling up the tea kettle. Instead of tea, however, I made myself a glass of bourbon with one ice cube. (The water running disguised the sound of me pouring the liquor into the glass, as well as the clink of the ice cube.) I took my drink to the living room and played computer games, sipping on the drink as I played. Soon enough, it was empty. By this time, he was fully asleep, so I didn't need to disguise the noise when I poured the second drink. This one polished off the bottle, and for a moment, I considered funneling the bourbon back into the bottle. I quickly dismissed this impulse, however, and put the empty bottle into the recycling bin (in the back, so it wouldn't be easily seen). The second drink went down faster than the first. And here's where it gets confusing.

I must have gone outside to smoke a cigarette. I had my coat on. I fell. I don't know if I tripped or if I passed out on my feet, but I went down face first onto the patio. I don't remember falling. I don't know how long I lay there before I got up. I remember seeing blood on my right hand. That's all I remember.

I somehow got my coat off, and got undressed, and put myself to bed. I wasn't quiet about it, though, and my husband woke up. He says it was around 3 a.m. He told me the rest of it. I fell down on the floor on the way to bed, then got up and fell down again. He asked me what was going on, and my answer was "floor." He got up and saw what I would see the next morning: my face was covered with blood, with my upper lip bearing the majority of the injury. My glasses were scratched, my nose looked broken (it wasn't), and I'd broken a tooth.

Next morning, I woke up, aware that something was very wrong. I took inventory of my injuries with fingers and tongue. My front teeth were there. Good. But the next tooth, oh no. Was broken in half. My lip was numb, but everything else hurt. A lot.

My husband came into the room and discovered that I was awake. I'll never forget the look on his face, and the sob in his voice, when he asked me, "What have you done to yourself?" I tried to answer, to make up a story, but he already knew the answer. He wanted to take me to the hospital. I refused. He tried to clean up my face a little. And then he helped me get to the bathroom, where I took a long look at myself in the mirror, then collapsed onto the vanity. He helped me clean up more, then put me back in bed, where I was freezing and needed blanket after blanket. (I guess I was in shock or something.)

He ran me a hot bath, picked out some clothes, and took better care of me than I deserved.

While I was in the bath, he poured out the only liquor remaining in the house (1/3 of a bottle of vodka).

I spent the day resting, occasionally sleeping, crying a lot, and I asked for help. I called a friend who'd been sober for years, and asked her to take me to a meeting.

And that's day one. Today is day six. I've been to five AA meetings. I have not taken a drink since that night. I hope I never do again. I came very close to death that night. My blood is on the patio, only inches from four ceramic and terra cotta flower pots. I shudder to think how the whole thing would have gone if I'd fallen a few inches to the right.

I lied to my husband. My integrity? Non-existent. My self-respect? Right there with it.

I've got nowhere to go but up. I want to live in reality. I want to have integrity. I want to deserve my family's trust. I don't want to die because of alcohol.

Can You Hear Me Now? A Betrayed Wife Talks Back

Posted by Anonymous.

To my husband and his 'friend' -

I have slowly and bitterly watched the both of you for three years now. I've watched it go from a slightly older man mentoring a young woman to an older man befriending a younger woman. I've watched our phone records reflect talking up to 2000 minutes in one months' time and now see that after all this time of me crying and hurting and begging, you chop it down to 200-300 minutes and now it's supposedly, "just a friendship". Just because the two of you don't buy into emotional infidelity doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I'm glad you haven't had sex. I don't believe it, but I'm glad. Sometimes - when I'm crying alone in our bathroom because I know you've talked again and I don't want our children to see or hear me sobbing, I almost wish you had slept together. The emotional betrayal is so much more hurtful. I could, after a long time, eventually forgive a one-time indiscretion, but this on-going three year relationship is tearing my heart and my mind to pieces and causing me to lose respect for the man that I married and most of all for myself for putting up with all of it. I don't even know who you are anymore.

I am finished. I'm through being made a fool of - I'm through being disrespected. First, to you, my husband, I want to say that in a million years, I never, ever expected you to treat me like this. I can't fathom how you sleep at night or even how you can begin to roll over next to me as we fall asleep beckoning me to make love to you as if nothing has ever happened. I know that you called her on your way home or that she called you because you have that extra little hop in your step as you come in the front door - I've been proven right too many times after checking the phone records while you are playing with our children or watching a game on TV. Too many times, I've led myself into believing that you were just happy to be home and to see me and the kids only to see that you had an hour conversation with her. You don't think it affects our life together, but it does. You don't see how different you act when you haven't had your 'fix' with her. It affects us because it affects me. There was a time when you cared about how your actions affected me and you were proactive in making sure that you were considerate.

You are supposed to be my best friend. You are supposed to be my partner for life. I am supposed to be the only woman you talk to after a certain time of night. Why is it OK with you for her to call at 11:30 with each of her personal crises? Why is it OK for you to talk to her every morning on the way to work when you, yourself, have said you know that your relationship with her is going to cause the end of our marriage? Why would you still talk to her if you know that is the path it will put us on?

The only thing I can glean from this is that you are just being passive aggressive and are too chicken shit to end our marriage. You want me to be the jerk who walks away from a 12 year marriage and a 16 year relationship. You lecture our daughter about being accountable for her actions - about making good choices - about not just saying sorry over and over again, but really making changes to prevent the same mistakes from happening. Why don't you take your own advice?

And to you who I have affectionately been calling 'the whore', I am so embarrassed at the person that I have become since you entered our lives. I am a Christian and try so hard to forgive you and to pray for you. I've prayed so hard that God send a man into your life so that you would be removed from my husband's sight. I know you are only 24 and I try to tell myself that you are ignorant to the repercussions your calls/texts/emails are having on my marriage. I can't do that anymore. They are all excuses - my denial is over.

The feelings of hostility I have towards you weigh on me every day. I can't watch him text someone or decline a call when I am with him because I wonder if it's you. I hate you - and I don't think I've ever hated anyone in my entire life.

You distract him from his responsibilities - and he lets you. You pull him away from time with his children - and he lets you. You fulfill him in a way that only I should and I am not going to compete with you anymore.

I want to fall on my knees in front of you begging you to stop - begging you to please stop calling and please leave our family alone, but I'm not stupid. I know I didn't marry you - I married him. He's the one who should put a stop to it - and he isn't... so that should tell me what to do.

I hope you are happy. I hope that you both realize that your 'just a friendship' has slowly choked out a 16 year relationship and has left a piece of my heart missing forever.

I just don't want to feel stupid anymore - I don't want to feel this way anymore. I matter, even if not to the both of you, dammit - I MATTER. What I feel and what I know IS important and DOES have validity - even if only to me.

I'm done.

Waiting On My Thirty Pieces Of Silver

Posted by Leslie, Daniel's Mom.

Ante-script: My mother has early onset dementia. She is not yet 70 years old and her deterioration is fast, quiet, harsh, and ceaseless. Suicide is very rare among patients with this type of dementia (mostly because they haven’t the ability to plan and process the act) but we have a strong family history—her own father, in fact. Today my father took a gun out of her hand but I can't speak to how or why it was there. I am not there. I can’t be there. I am far away with three children—one is Daniel, my little piece of God. My sister is there, but for reasons never given, she wants nothing from me—I “breeze in” for visits. (Anybody else “breeze” anywhere with a special needs kid? Did I miss that workshop?) Anyway, this piece is almost a year old (2/09)—she visited us back then with the fully disclosed understanding that I would submit my observations to her doctor. Truly, as much as mothers watch our babies change in a year, so has this daughter watched her mother change, only in a backwards dying way. I will need to write on this again, so background information seemed only fair enough to offer.

I submitted my super (and completely un-) secret documentation of mom's visit to her doctor as directed. Or, rather, I emailed it to my dad and he submitted it because I just couldn't send all that crap directly to a stranger.

You see, I told on my mother. Laid out her secrets, one by one, day by day. I kissed her on both cheeks and now they will surely come for her.

It would appear that my mother is only able to function as a result of my father's constant vigilance and well-honed sense of I-Know-What's-Rightiness. It would appear that way because without my father, she is just simply un-able. Unable to what? Well, it's all right there in the document, and frankly, you should probably be on the lookout for a copy because my father is forwarding it around like one of those 'This is Cute' emails. And this, this horrid thing that is scraping my mother away from the inside out, is not cute at all.
She's been gone a week today and my anger is becoming soft and grief-y. Well, you would be angry too (maybe) if you had to hide food and tape containers shut and guard your kids' snacks and wonder why the autistic kid keeps bringing his empty snack bowl back for more crackers(vocab: perseverity/eating disorder--elderly onset) and double check the doors and gates left open and listen to endless lies (vocab: confabulation) and accusations that your Daniel stole her watch. And you would especially maybe be mad if you, somewhere in the back of your head, thought that When Mama Comes It Will Get Better. It was not better. It was her making kids cry at the twins’ birthday party because she wanted to Huuuuuuuug them. Like a very scary Grandma Clown. It was her ignoring her beautiful grandchildren unless they were packing graham crackers (vocab: apathy). It was her describing her father's death (suicide by gunshot, btw) to your children in lurid detail while you did everything but gag her to stop it (vocab: comportment and insight, executive skills). God save me, it was her wanting to pray over Daniel so that he might be healed. Healed. (See prev. entries regarding how he's glorious and I am a mess) I could not bear for Daniel to hear what she might say during this over-praying thing(No vocab for that, but boy, it pissed me off something fierce). It was her no longer able call a light a light or a bowl a bowl (vocab: agnosia).

It was her no long able to be her. I know that. I do

And here's the thing: For all that I did what was asked of me, for all that I checked and double checked and worded and reworded to drain every last drop of drama from it, for all that I swear up and down before you and God that yes, it sounds crazy, but yes, it did all happen, and finally for all that I only did it so that she might be treated and thus be Grandma, for all that, I ratted her out. Betrayed her. She is livid and bewildered (when she’s not talking about what a great visit we had). Her doctor is, as my dad says, "pretty shaken." Great. Just Great. I would like to speak to a manager please. Surely, there is someone in charge.

And also, can I get directions to the nearest Potter's Field on Mapquest?

But you must understand, I knew her when she was. When she was giving me her wedding dress as my own. When she was giving my biggest boy his first bath because I was bloody terrified of that red wailing wiggler. When she assured me that "twins are a good thing" and "we'll get through it." When she called me at the NICU when Fuzzy was intubated (5 years ago today). When she cooked and cleaned and ironed and yelled at me to "keep nursing and they'll be okay." All of these years before the first shadow and pall of autism—The mother of all “I want my mommy” screams. All this before that. And these, you see, are just the tip of the was's. Just the ones out in front in this one tiny bit of scribble. There are so many--God, how I do wish that had been my task, handling the was's and not the is's. Because then you would laugh and nod and think to yourself, "Oh, Daniel’s Mama’s mama, she was something else, that is for sure."

And she was.

About The Neighbor

Posted by Anonymous.

I know what I’m doing is wrong and that I’ve finally turned into a “statistic” but I feel like I can’t help myself. I’m your average, middle class, married working woman, two kids, nice house, church going, supportive family. Everything that should make me a “good” person. Here I am in the midst of a tumultuous affair with my next-door neighbor. Let me go back to the beginning…

I’ve been a good wife for the most part these past 10 years. Our marriage was never anything exciting but it was comfortable, solid, something I decided I just needed to be happy with. I never strayed all these years, though more than once I considered having an affair usually out of anger or frustration. Several jobs, two houses, and two kids later here we are at present day.

HE’s been there, lurking in my vision for quite a while now. Always a neighbor, never even allowing myself to think of crossing the line. Then this summer things changed, the world shifted. Suddenly I found myself flirting with him, albeit casually.

We live next door to each other and are the “outside” parents – the ones who are always outside with the kids, playing, laughing, and being the “fun” parent when we can. A little banter here, a little banter there. Suddenly I was in a whirlwind of having a crush on HIM. It was fun, harmless I told myself. But I found myself checking out the window to see if he and his kids were outside a little more frequently. My ears perked up at the sound of his truck coming home. I found excuses to be outside more and more and more.

I caught myself thinking about him here and there, imagining what a kiss would feel like, fantasizing about being wrapped in his arms.. Then that fateful night came. A neighborhood party. We hung out for hours, totally PG flirting. HE confessed HE wasn’t happily married. I could feel the tension between us. The interest. The desire. We finally walked back home and I wanted HIM to kiss me. It didn’t happen though we had some intense eye contact for a while.

Then two days later, a shot that rocked my world. HE was there. Just through Facebook at first. Sending an encouraging message, letting me know HE was thinking of me. One fateful day he popped up in a chat box on Facebook. I was sad and teary but he managed to make me laugh. Playing a chat version of 20 questions turned into him making a quick trip over to see me. The first time we had so obviously sought each other out. So friendly and neighborly. Numbers were exchanged and a few friendly phone calls followed.

A few days later, I was doing my best to put my life back together and a rare warm late fall day we got to be outside for hours with the kids. Flirting was rampant though kept in check due to the presence of both our spouses. In an opportune moment, HE leaned over and whispered HIS email address to me and asked me to email HIM the next day.

Our work email exchange was/is ridiculous. Sometimes as many as 50 emails back and forth a day. Pushing for more information, teasing, flirting, challenging me. I had the opportunity to be home early one day and let HIM know. HE came over to “talk.” I was a nervous schoolgirl. Couldn’t hardly look HIM in the eye. Things got close, intense. HE said I had to make the first move; I started to and then hesitated. He pulled back. A moment later, HE dove in. The most amazing kissing of my life. All the while, I was thinking, “I am breaking my marriage vows right here in my own kitchen with my next door neighbor. Seriously? This is my life?”

More phone calls and emails. Such chemistry. A few days later things progressed. I stopped just in the nick of time. Who am I doing this? On my own couch with my own neighbor? More days passed. Hundreds of emails, more than a few phone calls. It was time to piss or get off the pot. I got off the pot. We started having sex – in MY bed – on a fairly regular basis. Whenever we could meet up and it was relatively “safe” from discovery. The physical chemistry is just overwhelming. He’s so appealing to me even though this is crazy and messed up.

Almost three months later, I’m obsessed, wrapped up in a web of mixed emotions. I long to be with him but know it’s virtually impossible. Relationship with husband is seriously on the rocks and essentially over. All that’s left is for me to tell him it’s officially over. Know I’m hurting him but feel like I can’t imagine a life with us together ever again. As much as I try not to think of a “future” with HIM, it’s getting harder by the day.

We avoid talking about feelings other than to tease each other. We both have said we’re crazy for each other. My marriage is/will be ending soon. Not so sure about his. Life is complicated. Now the question is, will I be happy being the other woman in his life if he decides he can’t leave yet?

Dear Married Moms: Be Nice To Me

Posted by Anonymous.

I've had these words buried in me for years. After a recent postcard was posted on the Post secret website I have found myself choking to spit them out like a cat hacking on a hairball. If you have ever been a single mom you will get this. If not, take this as a plea from one woman to another.

I'm a suburban single mom. The choice to stay in our home after the divorce was easy. I felt it would be best for my kids. The schools are better here; the kids had been through enough. In other words while he moved on with a clean slate I remained at the scene of the crime. My neighbor actually asked pre-divorce who was getting the house. They wanted to know who their neighbor would be. I became the only single parent in my neighborhood and to my own detriment I carried on with a stiff upper lip. I might have as well developed the plague. I was not talked to but talked about. It will blow over, I thought. Ten years have passed it hasn't.

Here's where my plea comes in: married moms, be kind to me. I am just a mom like you. I am trying to juggle all the things your family does with half of the resources. I come home from work cook and try to help with homework, clean and do laundry. If I have a bad day I'm not able to tag team and get a break. It's just me. Just me to guide, feed and love these precious people I have been entrusted with. It's scary and hard as hell. If my child ends up on Dr. Phil someday it surely must be my fault. I am the custodial parent. I don't choose to be the only mom at the Cub Scout camp-outs; I just don't want my son to miss out on these things because his dad can't be bothered with them. I've yet to figure out if you find me a threat, or just a reminder that your dreams of happily ever after could fall apart in the blink of an eye just like mine did. Either way your cold shoulders hurt and they work. My son senses it and no longer wants to be in the cub scouts. It probably would have been easier to just sell my house and start over in the city where single parent homes are the majority. I wouldn't have had to hear from my mailman that it is confusing having “so many names” on our box since I chose to take my maiden name back. I wouldn't sit through an entire little league game with only a couple of the grandmas talking to me. We are all women, trying to navigate the rocks and holes life has scattered in our paths. Why not help each other along the way? In the end we will probably outlive our mates. In the nursing homes we are all single moms - some of us just got there sooner than others.